


Inevitable

by Belldam



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Light BDSM, M/M, submissive masochist matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belldam/pseuds/Belldam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Matt could feel his fear and anger emanating off of him, and it pained him to think of how Foggy was feeling. He didn’t know what he looked like, but he could feel it, and he knew the sight of his battered body was hurting Foggy. But he wasn’t going to stop, he wasn’t going to drag Foggy into it, and he wasn’t going to fight. He knew Foggy wanted to have it out with him right there, but Matt didn’t have the time and he didn’t have the energy. He was tired of feeling like he was losing Foggy and he was tired of fighting and he was just tired."</p><p>Matt and Foggy have a fight. Matt reevaluates what he wants from Foggy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

They put Fisk away, they celebrated, and Foggy made his peace with Daredevil. Mostly. Well, not really. He made his peace with Matt, and grudgingly accepted that Daredevil was part of the deal now. He hated that he couldn’t stop Matt, though, and Matt knew it. He knew Foggy worried about him and he knew Foggy still couldn’t stand that Matt had lied to him. Normally his anger sat to the side, unspoken and mostly forgotten, but this time Matt could tell Foggy wouldn’t be able to keep it inside. He had come over with Thai food to go over the details of a case, working after hours at Matt’s place, ostensibly to keep the lights off at the office a little longer. Matt suspected that Foggy wanted to get him away from Karen, where he could tear into him about Daredevil’s activities freely.

Matt was hurt again, bad. Not as bad as the night Foggy found out about Daredevil, but bad. Foggy hadn’t caught him at the worst of it, before Claire patched him up the day before, but he’d noticed Matt’s strained movements at the office, and he was worried. Matt wanted to keep Daredevil away from Foggy, wanted to shield him from the worst of what could happen, but Foggy wasn’t interested in staying on the sidelines now that he knew. Matt wanted to isolate himself, or at least this part of himself, and do what needed to be done, but Foggy had shown that he wasn’t going to let Matt destroy himself and Matt loved and hated him for it.

They sat together, going through files and occasionally conferring in a quiet, restrained manner, the take out left mostly untouched. Matt knew Daredevil was the unspoken presence in the room, separating them from each other, tamping the energy in the room down with anxiety, but Matt wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. It would always have to be Foggy, and it always was. After about a half hour of uncomfortable, unproductive silence, Foggy finally went for it.

“Matt, what happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Foggy.”

“How am I supposed to watch you limp around the office, knowing that you’re out there, wearing out your body, nearly _killing yourself,_ without even--”

“Foggy, don’t-”

“Without even knowing that you’ll tell me what’s going on, what you’ve done to yourself, without knowing if you’ll _even come back?”_ His voice was rising, cracking with emotion, and his pulse was spiking. “I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend everything is fine, while I’m wondering how many bones you’ve broken, if you’re getting taken care of, if you’re even supposed to be moving around or if you’re just powering through your life-threatening injuries like some _macho asshole?”_

Matt could feel his fear and anger emanating off of him, and it pained him to think of how Foggy was feeling. He didn’t know what he looked like, but he could feel it, and he knew the sight of his battered body was hurting Foggy. But he wasn’t going to stop, he wasn’t going to drag Foggy into it, and he wasn’t going to fight. He knew Foggy wanted to have it out with him right there, but Matt didn’t have the time and he didn’t have the energy. He was tired of feeling like he was losing Foggy and he was tired of fighting and he was just tired.

Foggy fell silent, waiting for a response, but he didn’t calm down. Matt didn’t know what to do; he didn’t know how to deal with Foggy’s anger or Foggy’s concern or Foggy’s love. He hadn’t slept, he _was_ powering through life-threatening injuries like some macho asshole, and he didn’t know how to stop or how to stop Foggy’s fear. All he knew was that he wanted this to stop and he wanted Foggy back. Instead of responding, he leaned in and kissed Foggy, cupping his face in his hands. He’d known for a while that Foggy was into him, could sense the sharp increase in his pulse sometimes when Matt got close. Matt never mentioned before, afraid to change the good thing they had going, but now, he knew it was there and maybe he was in a weird place, and maybe the excitement of his life was crossing his wires and he confused passion and anger, and maybe if he gave Foggy something he wanted, he would let up. Kissing Foggy felt so right and so inevitable that he couldn’t believe he never thought of going for it before. But Foggy apparently disagreed. He went stiff and shoved Matt away, rough and harsh and livid. Confused and alarmed, Matt let himself be pushed away.

“What the fuck, Matt!” Foggy yelled at him, shoving him again, hard. “Did you just try to _kiss me_ to _shut me up?”_

Matt flinched. He hadn’t thought that was what he was doing, but suddenly he wasn’t sure. “No, Foggy, I just thought...you wanted me to.”

“Fucking why? When did I ever say, ‘Matt, please kiss me’? What made you think--oh my god.” Foggy stopped short as he realized what Matt was thinking. His silence was so pointed that Matt was glad he couldn’t picture the look of anger and hurt on Foggy’s face. “You fucking didn’t.”

After a stretch of silence, Matt realized he wanted a response.

“I...people have tells, Foggy...when they want something...I’ve...noticed.”

He heard Foggy shifting, groaning miserably. “Matt.”

“I never said anything because you didn’t, so I thought-”

“Matt!”

Matt stopped.

“I didn’t want you to fucking kiss me! Not now, not like...have you fucking done this before? Is this how you treat your girlfriends? You just...what, they smell horny so you go for it?”

Had he done that to his girlfriends? Nobody had ever complained before, but Foggy’s anger made everything feel shaky and uncertain. He tried to defend himself anyway. “Foggy, I can’t see, I don’t have a lot to work with.”

“Oh? What about some fucking _words,_ Matt? ‘Hey, wanna kiss?’ God...I can’t believe...we took _women’s studies_ together, I thought you got this!”

“I don’t get how-”

“Enthusiastic consent, asshole!”

“I didn’t-”

“Yeah, sure, keep making excuses.” He heard Foggy start to get up, making for the door, and Matt reached out to catch his arm.

“Please, Foggy.”

Foggy jerked out of his grip. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he snapped, before stalking out of Matt’s apartment, leaving him alone in the mess of their abandoned work.

***

They went three agonizing days without talking after that. Foggy refused to even be in the same room with him at the office. Karen eventually gave up trying to get them to reconcile, or even tell her what was wrong, but Matt could still hear the worry in her voice. At least, when she didn’t sound exasperated. Matt trudged through those days in a miserable fog, certain he’d ruined the best friendship of his life. Given how things were going for him lately, it had probably been just a matter of time. Foggy had only barely accepted Daredevil, and now Matt pulled this. By the end of the third day, he was convinced it was better for Foggy, anyway. Better for himself, too, for Foggy to forget about him, and for them to split so no one could ever threaten Foggy to get to him.

That was when Foggy called him. He was lying in bed, failing to sleep, when the thin robotic voice of his phone announced Foggy’s name. Matt scrabbled frantically for his phone, picking up with shaking fingers.

“Foggy?” he said, his voice cracking tearfully.

“Matt.” Foggy didn’t sound any happier than he did. “Matt, we need to talk.”

Matt sat up, trying to emotionally prepare himself for this conversation. “Foggy, I’m so sorry, I’m so-”

“Did you...actually _want_ me?” His voice was soft and tremulous on the other end and Matt’s heart clenched to think that he did that to him. Then his heart stopped, realizing the confession Foggy was asking of it. “Did you want me, or did you just want me to shut up?”

“What? I wouldn’t do that just to-”

“Godammit, Matt, no, you would! You would just do that! You did.” His voice was strained, thick with hurt and rage. “So what I’m asking is, was that all, or do you also want to…to be with me?”

Matt was silent. In his desperation to calm things down with Foggy, to fix things, he had actually forgotten what door he was opening when he kissed Foggy. The fallout of Foggy learning about Daredevil, the insanity of chasing after Fisk, his failure with Claire and her rejection of him: Every broken piece of his freak-show life had prevented him from seeing what kissing Foggy could mean. He just wanted to fix one thing, to salvage one thing, the best thing in his life, and in his panic he miscalculated. He wasn’t ready to make this decision and he hadn’t stopped for one moment to consider that.

“Of course you didn’t,” Foggy spat bitterly. Matt couldn’t stand everything that sentence carried: what Foggy thought of him, what Foggy thought of himself. Matt couldn’t bear it.

“I did.” His voice came out broken, and he paused, swallowed, before speaking again. “I wouldn’t have done it without wanting to. I wouldn’t...I did. I did want to.” He struggled to stop himself from continuing, not wanting to risk digging himself a new hole. A painful silence stretched on and he wondered if Foggy wanted him to say more.

“I need to think,” Foggy said finally, and hung up before Matt could respond. 

***

They didn’t talk at the office the next day, but Foggy didn’t leave whenever Matt entered a room. Two days after that, Foggy walked Matt home. Matt had intended to work late, but Karen left before either of them, and it still felt strange to be alone with Foggy. He started packing up to work at home, when he heard Foggy pack up, too, and follow him to the door. Matt paused, unsure what was going on.

“I thought we could talk,” Foggy explained.

“Yeah,” Matt answered. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Foggy was silent. Matt thought he might have moved his head, but it was hard to tell. “I nodded. Sorry.” Matt smiled. 

***

The walk home was silent, but only moderately uncomfortable. It was the regular discomfort preceding a difficult conversation, not the foreboding air of anger that had poisoned their office for the last week. Now they sat silently on Matt’s couch, each holding an untouched bottle of beer.

“Okay,” Foggy said, finally breaking the silence. “Okay, we need to talk about what happened. I’m gonna assume you had the best intentions, but you can’t...manipulate me, Matt. What the _fuck.”_ Matt opened his mouth to defend himself, but Foggy kept going. “I don’t care what you thought you were doing. This isn’t a movie, and despite your costume you aren’t some action hero star and you can’t just get whatever you want and do whatever you want because you’re ungodly handsome and you’re used to it. I’m pissed at you and you have to let me be pissed. I have a right to be pissed!”

Matt remained silent to let that sink in. He didn’t think he got whatever he wanted by being ungodly handsome. But the way his best friend had treated him for a week was making him question some things about himself. “You’re right. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Second, it’s fucking weird when you listen to my heartbeat. You can’t just listen to people’s hearts without their consent; you have to stop that.”

“That’s not how it works, I hear _everything,_ whether I want to or not.”

“Well, it’s private, so act like it. You can’t just kiss me because you think I want it.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay, you’re right.”

“Thank you.” Foggy sighed, short and huffy and relieved. “So...do you still want to?”

“Yeah.” Matt’s voice was soft and sincere. After a week of barely having Foggy in his life he knew exactly what he wanted, which was just Foggy, in any and every way he could have him.

“Okay. I do, too.”

Matt sat in a giddy and awkward silence. This went far better than he could have predicted five days before, but he suddenly didn’t know what to do. He was used to being with people who thought he was smooth and cool, not his best friend. He knew how to be Foggy’s friend; he didn’t know how to be Foggy’s boyfriend. Then Foggy slid his hand into Matt’s, lacing their fingers together. He shifted closer and rested his head on Matt’s shoulder and suddenly nothing else mattered. Foggy took in a long breath and let it out slow, his pulse slowing as his body relaxed, and it was everything Matt wanted when he tried to kiss him.

“We should probably take it slow,” Foggy said quietly.

“That sounds good. Whatever you want, Foggy.” Matt rested his head on Foggy’s, and everything felt right. 

***

Taking it slow didn’t last. Neither of them was particularly surprised by this. It had been a long time coming, and they weren’t about to waste any more time waiting. Once lounging around on top of each other became an option, it wasn’t hard to move to slow, lingering kisses. Slow, lingering kisses quickly became deep and urgent, and in the end, taking it slow lasted about 48 hours. They lay together on Matt’s couch, Foggy just slightly on top of Matt, pressing kisses along the underside of his jaw. Foggy’s leg slipped between Matt’s and he couldn’t help but buck his hips up against him, gasping softly at the friction. Foggy pressed his leg down against him in response, moving up to kiss his mouth, hard and passionate. They continued like that for a few moments, the heat and urgency building steadily between them, before Foggy pulled back. Matt heard him swallow, and his breathing was suddenly shallow with anxiety instead of lust.

“Matt, I’m...” Anxious was the unspoken word that sat heavily between them. Matt knew he was. He knew he’d dealt a serious blow to Foggy’s trust with Daredevil, and he felt that even if Foggy didn’t mention it, he hadn’t forgotten their disaster of a first kiss. Foggy swallowed again, decided to abandon that train of thought. “For now...I want to call the shots.”

Matt knew what Foggy meant, knew it came from a place of anxiety, but the request still sent a shiver down his spine. He shuddered a little beneath Foggy, inhaling sharply at the suggestion, at the idea of Foggy taking over, at the idea of _letting go_ for once. “Yeah,” he said, a little breathless. “Yeah, whatever you want.”

Foggy was still for a moment longer and Matt suddenly wished he could see his face, could see what he was thinking. Foggy’s pulse could only tell him so much; it couldn’t tell him if Foggy noticed his reaction or if he thought it was weird. Before he had too long to worry over it, Foggy was leaning in close, speaking low and soft right by Matt’s ear, “You...liked that, right?” His voice was carefully modulated to sound as confident as possible, but Matt heard the notes of genuine uncertainty underlying it. He liked that, too, though.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Foggy said, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Okay.” He took Matt by the wrists, one in each hand, and pulled his hands up level with his head, pinning him there. Matt shifted his hands, experimentally, and Foggy tightened his grip, bore down a fraction harder on his wrists. Matt let out a small, satisfied sigh, moving his hips up against Foggy.

“No,” Foggy said, his voice still low and right by Matt’s ear. “Hold still." Matt obeyed easily, eager to take orders. Foggy resumed kissing Matt, sucking light bruises along the underside of his jaw, before kissing him again on the mouth. Matt kissed him back, all his frustration released into the kiss as he held still beneath Foggy, despite his increasing desperation for something, anything. For his part, Foggy was free to roll his hips against Matt and Matt found that the feeling of being held beneath Foggy, being subject to Foggy’s will, being _used_ by Foggy was intoxicating, and he gave himself into it freely.

As Foggy broke the kiss, he paused to nip, just hard enough to feel sharp, at Matt’s bottom lip. Matt moaned his approval. Foggy paused, his mouth still inches away from Matt’s. His body stilled and Matt could sense apprehension.

“So...we should, uh...you like pain, too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Matt breathed. “Yeah, I do. A lot.”

Foggy let out a short laugh. “Yeah, of fucking course you do.” Matt knew he was thinking of Daredevil and he almost protested, but truth be told, he wasn’t sure he could.

“Should we, uh, have a conversation? About this?”

“Probably, but, Foggy.” Matt rolled his hips pointedly up against him. “Not now?”

Foggy shifted gears immediately, bearing down on Matt’s wrists with renewed vigor, hard enough to make Matt gasp. He swung his leg over both of Matt’s, straddling him completely so Matt could not find purchase to grind against him.

“I said hold _still.”_

“Yes,” Matt gasped. “Fuck--” Foggy covered Matt’s mouth with his, cutting him off, and finally, finally, started to rock his hips against Matt’s so they could both feel it. Foggy began peppering Matt’s neck with sharp little nips that made him gasp from need and beg for more. They continued like that for several tortuous minutes, grinding against each other with their jeans still on, preventing either of them from doing anything more than just teasing at a deeper pleasure, before Matt couldn’t take it anymore.

“Foggy.”

“Yeah?” Foggy’s voice was ragged and breathless.

“Foggy, I want...I really want to suck your cock.”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah.” Foggy let go of Matt’s wrists, moving to let him up off the couch. “Uh, how do you want to…?” Matt was already sliding down off the couch to kneel between Foggy’s legs.

“Here’s fine,” he said, letting his hands find Foggy’s thighs and running them up his legs to undo his jeans.

“Have you, uh, done this before?” Foggy’s voice was husky underneath a veneer of casualness, and Matt wondered briefly if he was hoping the answer would be no. He decided to go with honesty.

“Just a couple of times.”

“I didn’t even kno-- _oh.”_ Foggy cut himself off with a soft sigh as Matt took his cock in hand, giving him a couple slow strokes before leaning in to wrap his lips around him. He sucked at the head of his cock, then bobbed his head up and down, slow and careful, listening closely to the noises Foggy made, to the sound of his nails on the couch as his hands clenched and unclenched while Matt worked. Matt took a breath then, pulling off of Foggy’s cock before going back down, taking in as much of Foggy as he could, until his nose was pressed against Foggy’s skin.

 _“Fuck,”_ Foggy breathed, a hand moving to curl loosely in Matt’s hair, then tightened a little, just barely pulling. Matt stayed down as long as he could before pulling back to take a deep, shaky breath.

“Foggy,” he said, his voice hoarse and soft, “that...that’s good.” He gestured sort of vaguely in the direction of his own head, and Foggy’s hand in his hair.

“Yeah?” He tightened his grip in Matt’s hair, pulling hard enough to make Matt gasp. He pushed Matt’s head back toward his cock, slowly and gently enough that Matt could refuse if he wanted.

“Yeah,” he said instead, letting himself be pushed down, taking Foggy’s cock back in his mouth. Foggy pushed more insistently, pressing Matt’s face against his belly, his grip harsh and punishing in Matt’s hair. It was perfect: Foggy’s cock choking him, working to keep up with Foggy’s pace, letting himself be used by Foggy with no need to think or act or do anything other than what Foggy wanted. The pain from Foggy pulling his hair and the pain in his jaw and throat was good and sweet, and even the dull ache of his previous injuries seemed pleasant as his body started to release endorphins. Matt moved one hand from its bracing position on Foggy’s knee, reaching down to undo his own jeans, taking himself in his hand. He stroked himself rough and fast as Foggy moved his head faster, thrusting his cock into the back of Matt’s throat hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. It wasn’t long before Matt heard Foggy’s breathing become shorter and more ragged, and he knew he was close.

“Matt,” Foggy said, pulling Matt’s head off of his cock. “Matt, I’m--”

“Yeah,” Matt answered, wrapping his free hand around Foggy’s cock and jerking him off in short, fast strokes, jerking himself in the same rhythm. “Yeah, however you want to, Foggy.” Within moments, Foggy’s come was spattering across Matt’s lips, across his cheek.

 _“Fuck,_ Matt.” Foggy let go of Matt’s hair, bringing his hands down to cup Matt’s face, pulling him up toward him, gently. Matt let himself be guided back onto the couch, and Foggy took his cock in his hand, kissing him slow and deep. After a few strokes, Matt was coming, shuddering and gasping. Foggy stroked him through his orgasm, and when he was finished, he took Matt’s face in his hands and kissed him, his thumbs stroking gently at Matt’s temples. Matt wrapped his arms around Foggy’s waist, kissing him back. Foggy pushed him down to lie back on the couch, and they lay there together, back at the slow, lingering kisses stage.

They stayed like that for some time, content to trade, sweet, tired kisses, until they eventually stopped, Foggy resting his head on Matt’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around Matt’s waist.

“Hang on,” Matt said, and pulled his t-shirt up to wipe Foggy’s come off of his face, then pulled it off and tossed it down onto the floor. Foggy laughed a little, making Matt laugh as he settled back into Foggy’s arms.

“Hey,” Foggy asked after a minute. “Do you want to order a pizza?”

Matt laughed. “I forgot, we were supposed to go get dinner, weren’t we? Pizza sounds good.” Foggy reached over him, searching the coffee table for his phone. He called and placed the order, then settled back down on the couch.

“Half an hour-ish.”

Matt nodded. “I’m just gonna take a nap until it gets here.”

Foggy pressed a kiss to Matt’s cheek. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Matt closed his eyes, shifted onto his side so that he was lying with his back against Foggy. For the first time since he’d first put on the mask, he felt content. Content in his body, still relaxed, still pleasantly sore in his throat and scalp. Content in himself, to know he still had Foggy, that he and Foggy could work through just about anything. Content to lie there with Foggy, and to let himself feel safe with someone, and to let himself feel loved.


End file.
